The Gift
by Busanda
Summary: Palpatine's ruminations on his way to a Jedi funeral. A TPM vignette.


**The Gift**

He strolled in quiet solitude in the shelter of the colonnade, buried beneath the leaves of ancient vines whose tendrils of new growth seemed to grasp for the solemn figure that passed in the shadows. The stillness of the early evening was broken only by the far off movement of others as they crossed the courtyard of the majestic palace that served as a monument to the planet and the people that called him their own.

As he walked, he wondered at the speed with which the future, that he himself had foreseen, had unfolded itself these past few days. While he could take no real satisfaction in all that had transpired, he remained pragmatic and countered the positives against the bad. His plans would take yet more time, but he was nothing if not patient. It was a patience born out of a thousand-year-old legacy entrusted to him by the man that he called Master so many years before.

Nonetheless, for all that had gone wrong and for all the mishaps of the recent days' events, he could only marvel at the workings of the Force. Had it not closed a window to him only to open a viewport? Yes, the Zabrak's loss was disappointing, the years and years of training gone in the flash of a Jedi's lightsaber. But then, the Force, in all its infinite splendor and beneficence, presented him with a gift of consolation beyond anything any Dark Lord had ever imagined or truly deserved.

However, deserve it _he_ did, for had any Dark Lord embodied the teachings of his race better than he? Had any Dark Lord before taken the lessons learned over hidden centuries and applied them so skillfully to the task at hand? Had any Dark Lord before him shown the kind of slow and deliberate calculation and thought that he had? Had any Dark Lord done more to further the goals of his once proud order? Yes, he knew that _he_ deserved this, the ultimate gift, and with a satisfied sigh, he quietly sent his gratitude to the Force.

He knew. The minute he laid eyes on the boy, he knew. The currents of the Force shuddered and sparked through the air from the boy to him and raised every nerve in his being until his very skin seemed to dance. How could the Jedi not see it? How could there be any debate? He chuckled at the thought that they had become so complacent in their beliefs, so staid in their teachings that they could not see the Force radiating in blinding beams out of the child. They had become so ingrained in the static dogma of their order, so self-serving, and so self-righteous in all they expounded that they could not see what was standing before them. Only the dead Jedi knight clearly understood what had appeared, and now he was gone.

As he pondered the self-induced stasis that would be the ultimate undoing of the Jedi Order, his lips curved into a slight smile and his tongue pressed into his left cheek with a befuddled shake of the head. Only the Jedi were arrogant enough to be presented with the living fulfillment of their vaunted prophecy and dismiss it with such ease and derision, thus reducing it to a mere possibility.

He, on the other hand, immediately recognized the boy for what he was. He was a gift from the Force itself, conceived from the very currents of life that passed through every living organism. The boy was the one -- Him. He was all the Force's glorious and infinite powers manifested in human form. He was the one spoken of through prophecy, millennia ago. He was meant to balance that which created him, to bring an end to a despised enemy, and to restore justice to the galaxy. And, he would be a Sith.

"He is mine," he thought with contained excitement.

He would allow the ignorant Jedi to train the boy in their ways. He would let them teach the child to hone his connections to the thing that gave him life. The Jedi would teach him their combat skills and raise him to be a great warrior with no peer. He would even allow them to indoctrinate the boy into their anachronistic society for he knew it would do no good for them in the end because, he thought again, "He is mine."

In the meantime, he had no desire to invest in training another apprentice the way he had this last one. It had ended up being a regrettable waste of his skill and effort. No. This time, he would enlist someone already fully trained in the ways of the Force. The promise of power was a potent lure, and he had no doubt that he would find a willing recruit. He would settle for a disgruntled Jedi, someone to bide his time with until the boy was ready to take his rightful place beside him.

Alone in the shadows, he saw with clarity the future laid out before him. His step quickening, he could not contain the "Yes" that escaped his upturned lips as he rubbed his hands together in delight. He then acknowledged the Force with a reverent nod of his head and offered one more silent message of thanks.

FINIS


End file.
